Frozen
by Pandora Culpa
Summary: When a mission in the wilderness goes awry, Ed and Roy are forced to share a sleeping bag for warmth- with questionable results. Written for the fma ihop kinkmeme


"Help me pitch the goddamn tent!"

"F-f-fuck y-you, b-b-b-bastard!"

"Fullmetal, if you don't get your ass over here right now, I swear, I will throw you _back_ in the river!"

"... hate you, I f-fucking h-hate you!"

* * *

It was a simple assignment. An unscheduled inspection of a border outpost, where an arms running operation led by a certain Amestrian sergeant was suspected. Authority and surprise; that was all it would take to clean up this mess, and then everything would return to business as usual. And while this meant a few inconveniences, such as needing to hike in from a nearby town, rather than taking the train directly to the base lest the guilty party be tipped off by his informants, that wasn't such a hardship.

Sure, it was at the Drachman border in wintertime. And yes, there were the occasional forays made by enemy forces in those remote forests. And of course the unit assigned to the inspection needed to be small, the better to go undetected.

But when the soldiers assigned to the mission were none other than Colonel Roy Mustang, and Major Edward Elric, surely there was no need for concern? Certainly the Flame Alchemist could keep them from frostbite, and there wasn't anyone who could outfight the Fullmetal Alchemist unless it was the Colonel himself. And while Elric may be small, there were few luckier, and it would take far more stealth than the Drachman army possessed to surprise Colonel Mustang.

Yes. A simple assignment indeed.

* * *

"Just tie down the rope, Fullmetal, it's not that hard."

"Y-you d-d-do it! My h-hand is f-f-frozen stiff!"

"I'm trying to keep the tent from being blown off this godforsaken mountain! Now tie the damn rope!"

"Asshole, I h-hope _y-y-you_ get b-blown off the m-m-mountain!"

* * *

It should have been simple.

But what the Drachman army couldn't possibly accomplish, nature pulled off with ease.

After all, a couple of southern alchemists were no match for the Briggs mountains in wintertime.

* * *

The tent had a drunken list to it, but it stood, and was better than nothing at all. The oiled canvas would break the worst of the wind, which was a small but critical favor, though that still didn't solve the rather more alarming problem of their lost supplies. That was a misfortune that would need to be dealt with eventually, but simple survival was the more pressing concern at the moment.

Ed's face was chapped-red and blotchy, his shivering growing more pronounced by the second and, reasonably assured that the tent wouldn't fly off in the gale blowing around them, Roy motioned curtly for him to get into the tent. It was a mark of how much the young man must have been suffering that he didn't even reply, only hurriedly crawled through the flap into the dark interior, and the Colonel felt worry- an emotion he'd successfully held off while they set up their emergency shelter- stealing over him with grim inevitability.

It was only by the grace of Fullmetal's enviable luck, Roy was sure, that Edward was still alive at all. It certainly wasn't any of _his_ doing, and the Colonel's conscience panged as he acknowledged that the catastrophe could be laid directly at his door. He'd been the one leading them, off the trail, trying to race the storm in which they found themselves now. If there were any justice, the ground would have opened up beneath _his_ feet instead of Ed's, the snowy path revealing itself to be the rimey crust of a river, rather than solid earth. But the weight of the automail had been too much, and the horrifying crack of fracturing ice would be new fodder from here out for the Colonel's guilt-ridden nightmares.

For a few terrified moments, Roy had been certain that Ed would be pulled away by the current, but for once the drag of his prosthetics was a boon. He'd been able to snag the young man's coat, hauling him from the gaping maw of ice to firmer ground, where they both lay gasping and shivering as the wind rose, and snow began freckling the sky.

Wet to his waist, Roy had almost cried aloud from the cold air's bite, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. But all of Fullmetal's gear- clothing, bedroll, blankets- was gone, lost to the icy depths of the river, and if the Colonel was cold, Ed was frozen. His blue-tinged lips and dazed expression, blank and miserable beneath darkened strands of hair already icing over, were enough to frighten Roy into action, bullying the drenched, hypothermic alchemist up the hill, and keeping him moving while they set up the tent.

Tossing his knapsack inside after the younger man, Roy cast one more despairing look at the terrain before following it in. In the middle of nowhere, and no one expecting them; no one to worry when they didn't arrive. No help whatsoever. There was no one but himself to try and mend the damage his mistakes had caused.

Inside the tent, Ed was huddled in on himself shivering violently, his automail arm held at an awkward angle away from his body. Within the close confines, Roy could feel the cold radiating from the metal, and winced inwardly. Another obstacle against them; the automail would slowly leech away any heat that Fullmetal might retain. If he had thought there was a chance of convincing Ed, he would have insisted that the young man remove the limbs. But instead, he spread their one remaining blanket on the floor, knowing full well that the ground would steal as much heat as the automail. Unrolling his sleeping bag atop it, he turned to fix his companion with a sharp gaze. "Get in."

Ed moved automatically to comply, crawling for the bag still clad in his wet clothing and boots and stopping only when Roy's voice lashed out with authority. "You can't get in like that!"

Glazed over eyes shifted to his with bleary aggression. "Wh-what?"

"You're wet," Roy explained, worry spiraling again as he recognized that shock was setting in. "If you don't undress you'll get the bag wet too, and if that happens we won't have any chance at getting you warmed up. Keeping dry is crucial."

Ed took a long time to process this, long enough for Roy's thoughts to run a screeching lap of panic through his head. Finally he nodded, his eyes resuming their emptiness as he clumsily kicked his boots off and began fumbling with his coat. Roy received each item as it was removed, piling them well away from the bag, until all that remained were Ed's boxers, clinging in a sodden mass to his legs.

"Those too," Roy directed, and a spark of life rekindled in Ed's face. His gold eyes narrowed, faint suspicion darkening that bright gaze.

"F-f-fuckin' pervert." he growled, but his voice was wavering and lacking its usual bite. The flesh hand hooked in the waistband of his boxers trembled, gooseflesh rising over his bared skin.

Frostbite. Pneumonia. A whole host of complications swarmed in Roy's mind, until he could scarcely think over their clamor. Forcing himself back into action, he summoned the most authoritative voice he could muster and ordered, "Take them off and get in," and prepared himself to face down another argument.

But there was no fight left in Ed. Uncoordinated hands slowly pushed the soaked shorts down, accompanied by pained grunts each time his metal hand brushed against his body. Roy averted his eyes, trying as much as possible to grant the young man some semblance of privacy, but Ed seemed unaware of the courtesy. Finally free of his wet clothing, he sank to his knees and burrowed into the sleeping bag, shaking hard enough that his teeth rattled.

Satisfied that Ed was no longer in immediate danger, Roy let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "I'm going to double check the tent," he told the younger man quietly. "The wind is getting bad, and I'm not certain that all the stakes will hold. And if it comes loose..." He let the words trail off, unwilling to admit his concerns to Fullmetal that they might not last through this storm, belatedly realizing that Ed wasn't listening anyway. Eyes closed, face pressed into the fabric of the sleeping bag, were it not for his alarming pallor and shallow breathing, Roy might have thought he was sleeping. A few tremors shook the smaller man, automail chattering dully through the insulated fabric, and Roy swallowed down his fear, throwing open the tent flap and stepping back out into the storm.

The frigid wind hit him like the kick of a mule, making Roy gasp aloud. Adrenaline and worry for Ed had almost let him forget that half of his clothing was damp as well, and the cold slid through those layers like a knife, scoring across his skin with brutal indifference. But he stumbled over to the lines of the tent, checking the security of each one and noting as well that the snow was drifting over the edges of the canvas. Under better circumstances he might have considered clearing it away, but for now he was simply thankful of the snow's additional weight keeping their tent from being blown free of its moorings.

Another blast of wind had him scurrying for the flap, eager to be out of the storm once again, and out of the clothing that was freezing around him. Kicking off his boots as he climbed in, Roy set to stripping himself with efficient speed only to pause, staring down at Ed's still form.

The sleeping bags he and Edward had carried were a standard Northern military issue. Designed for the use of one person alone, without much extra space; a snug fit that enabled the space within to be warmed much more easily than a roomier bag. Had this misfortune occurred to Havoc or, god help him, Breda, there would be no question about two people sharing the one remaining bag. However, he was slighter in build than most soldiers, and Edward even smaller than himself. With some luck, they might both fit inside, though it would leave them precious little space to move.

An arctic slap of air against the side of the tent jolted the Colonel from his thoughts, chills racing over his bared skin. Without further delay, he unzipped the bag and began wriggling in beside Ed.

The bag was cold and unwelcoming. He hadn't been long outside, but even in that short space of time he'd have expected some small warmth to have accumulated. And yet the bag was still cool against his body. Snuggling himself the rest of the way in, Roy's leg brushed Ed's automail, and he had to bite back a yelp as the cause of the chill revealed itself. The metal was cold enough to burn, and as soon as he'd overcome his surprise Roy felt his stomach drop. If his own clothing hadn't been wet, if he'd left Ed to recover on his own in the sleeping bag, theres no doubt he would have found a corpse in the tent before morning.

"...th' fuck?" Ed slurred, as Roy lifted his head to slide an arm beneath it, pulling the smaller man closer and trying not to recoil as he brushed achingly cold metal. "Mustang, what're you...?"

"Trying to keep you alive, Fullmetal," he replied sharply, entangling his legs with the other man's. In his grasp, Ed wriggled sluggishly, trying to twist around to face him. "Hold still. There isn't much space in here, you know."

"...it back up," Ed muttered, still trying to turn around. "S'too cold."

Roy sighed with exasperation, trying in vain to keep his hold on the young man. "I know it's cold! Your automail may as well be ice. Now hold still, so..."

"Th' _zipper_, dammit!" Ed snarled weakly, finally succeeding in rolling enough to fix Roy with a bleary gold stare. "Gotta pull it all the way up. Heat's getting out."

"I can't reach it." He'd forgotten about it as soon as he'd felt how cold Ed still was, and it dangled between his shoulders, out of reach and leaving the top of the sleeping bag gaping just slightly. Ed grunted in response, and reached out over Roy's neck, left hand fumbling for the tag of metal while Roy tried not to react to the sudden press of Ed's naked body against his own.

At last Ed drew back, as much as he was able in the enclosure of the sleeping bag. "Got it," he mumbled, sounding both triumphant and tired, his head sagging forward against Roy's chest while he panted lightly. The sensation of hot breath on his skin did little to alleviate his discomfort, and Roy tried hard to concentrate on the bitter chill still emanating from the other man's limbs instead.

Eventually, however, Ed lifted his head to face him. His complexion was washed out and pale, but the frown pulling his lips downward was familiar, and more than a little accusing.

"You're naked." Menace rumbled in his voice, though the implicit threat was somewhat tempered by the fact that his eyes kept unfocusing.

Roy felt a flush creeping up his neck, and reflected wryly that abject embarrassment was one way to warm up. "My clothes were wet from pulling you out of the river," he told him, somehow succeeding at keeping his voice level and dispassionate. "And skin to skin is the best way to transfer warmth between two bodies anyway. You're still dangerously cold, Fullmetal, and if we're to survive the night..."

"All right, all right! _Fuck_, you talk a lot." The gold head dropped against his chest once more, exhaustion dragging the young man down as his body struggled to warm itself. Roy closed his eyes as well, feeling a leaden weight descending into his own limbs as worry began to lift, and the rush of adrenaline faded. A few minutes passed silently, before Ed roused himself to poke Roy in the arm.

"Don't try anything," he grumbled.

Roy didn't even open his eyes. "Don't worry," he smirked in reply. "I'm not going to molest you when you can't fight back."

Ed sniffed. "Pervert," he stated, and settled in closer. Roy winced at the brush of automail against his side, but simply held onto the other man, grateful for their improved prospects. The sleeping bag finally warming around them, in little time both of them were fast asleep.

* * *

Consciousness was elusive, coyly flitting away every time he reached for it, leaving him in a state of half-dreaming. Sensation skittered through him, and in some vague corner of his mind Ed knew that this was a _good_ thing, still having the ability to feel. No longer cold, he was filled with a sense of security, and so comfortable...

Very comfortable. He stretched, a delicious tingle running through him, primal, compelling, and he shifted again to attain more of that friction. His body hummed with pleasure, but the familiar urgency that swelled within him triggered a ripple of confusion, disturbing the tranquil haze in which he floated. _That_ wasn't right, was it? Here...?

Wait, where was he?

Forcing himself fully awake was more difficult than expected. Ed groaned softly as awareness reasserted itself; everything he felt was suddenly amplified, from the uneven ground on which he was lying to the ache around his ports, no doubt a souvenir from being dunked in icy water. But along with those came the far more demanding urge, the thing that had dragged him from the satisfying oblivion he'd occupied.

Memory crashed back into place, smirking at him the same way the Colonel always did whenever Ed left him an opening, and his eyes snapped open in alarm.

The interior of the tent was dim, light filtering softly through from what was no doubt a brilliant morning outside. Tiny crystals sparkled on the ceiling where moisture from their breath had condensed and frozen, like tracings of frost on a windowpane. It was cold enough that he could see his breath, clouded little puffs curling into the air, and through them, right next to his head...

A long string of curses tumbled through Ed's brain, left unspoken so as not to wake the dark haired man asleep next to him. Next to him- practically on top of him! Chest to chest, the bastard's arms wrapped around him while their legs twined together deeper in the narrow confines of the sleeping bag. So close, close enough that-

"Fuck!" This time, the exclamation hissed out between clenched teeth, beyond his ability to contain. As if in reply his body pulsed once, then again as Mustang shifted slightly in his sleep, causing their bodies to momentarily press closer. Great. Just fucking _great_. Being hauled out of a fucking river by that insufferable bastard wasn't bad enough; he had to wake up with a fucking erection trapped between his stomach and the Colonel's hip.

No way in _hell_ would Mustang ever let him live that down.

But the bastard slept on, and Ed had yet to humiliate himself. He quickly took stock of the situation, noting with relief that despite the pain from his ports, his automail didn't seem to be in bad shape, nor was the rest of his body frostbitten or otherwise damaged. His clothing lay in an icy heap nearby, and arrays whirled through his mind, ways to separate the moisture from the fabric, maybe even leave some residual warmth in the clothing from the reaction. He'd been too far into shock last night to attempt it, his brain nearly as frozen as his body, but this morning the precision required for transmutations was well within his reach.

Get up then, and get moving. And if the cold didn't settle his... problem... when he got out of the sleeping bag, he'd at least be able to dress and step outside to deal with it.

He wriggled upwards, trying to work his shoulders free of the Colonel's loose grip and out through the tight opening. Mustang muttered something incomprehensible, eyelids fluttering, but his arms withdrew and Ed slid an arm through the mouth of the sleeping bag. The drop in temperature was extreme, almost enough to make him rethink the notion of leaving the cocoon of warmth he and the Colonel shared, but his groin _ached _and really, it was just a little too weird being naked and wrapped around _Mustang_, of all people.

Carefully, he tugged at the edges of the sleeping bag, trying to jostle the zipper down without waking his companion. When that didn't appear to have any effect he gritted his teeth, and leaned in closer to the other man so that he could reach around to pull on the tab itself. This time the zipper moved about half an inch before it stopped, and no matter how he yanked on it, the tab resolutely refused to budge.

"Edward?"

He froze at the sleepy, disoriented voice, his gaze snapping down to meet the Colonel's. Dark eyes, still softened with sleep, regarded him with mild confusion, clearly not quite comprehending the situation.

Immediately, Ed pulled away from him, at least, as much was possible within the sleeping bag. "Didn't mean to wake you up," he grumbled, and Mustang seemed to take the admission as an apology, which it wasn't.

"It's all right. We should probably get up anyway." The older man yawned, one hand stealing up to brush his tousled bangs back as he stretched, his body arching into Ed's-

-and stopped, the hand falling away from his face as his eyes widened in surprised recognition, and Ed wished to _hell_ that he knew better curses, because nothing in his repertoire was even close to equaling this situation.

"Shut the _fuck_ up," he snapped, bristling and defensive despite that Mustang had yet to say a word. "It's not like I can _help_ it, you know."

The bastard merely blinked at him, his face set in that studiously blank mask he assumed whenever he didn't want people to know what he was thinking. Ed _hated_ that look; it made him want to hit things- preferably Mustang- just to get a reaction that was a little more human. But the Colonel didn't take the easy opportunity to belittle him. Nor did he pretend that the part of Ed's anatomy currently trying to drill a hole in his stomach didn't exist, something Ed thought would be _completely_ patronizing, no matter how embarrassing the alternative. Instead, the bastard simply said, "I understand. Are you feeling better this morning? No ill effects?"

How the _hell_ did the fucker manage to change the subject with a straight face while Ed's dick was stuck in his navel? For a moment Ed just gawked at him, wondering if he'd missed something and Mustang really _was_ slipping a jab beneath his radar. "What do- I- _just what the hell are you implying?_" he spat furiously, a hot flush lighting in his cheeks.

The mask cracked, just a little, and a hint of discomfort bled through onto Mustang's face. _Finally_. "You fell in a _river_, Fullmetal, and were hypothermic," he said. "Odd as it may sound, I was worried about you "

"M'fine," Ed grumbled sourly, and shifted again, trying to extract his offending body part from the Colonel's midsection. Fucking _hell_, but he ached now! And why was Mustang being so _nice_ about this, anyway? It was creeping him out. "Everything works."

The Colonel gave him a faint smirk, and they were suddenly back on familiar ground. "Yes, I noticed that."

"Fucking bastard!" Ed howled, thrashing as much as space permitted. "Pervert! I told you, it's _not my fault_! I was _trying_ to get _out_ of this damned bag when you woke up and started making fucking conversation!" Oh, _no_, all that movement was _not_ helping matters. He hunched forward, still trying to keep from touching the Colonel, his face set in a snarl.

"Calm down, Fullmetal. And do stop shouting, we don't need an avalanche on top of everything else." Mustang sighed, fixing Ed with a wry and somewhat penitent gaze. "I shouldn't be making fun over what is a normal physical reaction for a man your age. You're absolutely right, it's not your fault, and-"

"Oh god, _stop_ _talking about it_!" Ed covered his eyes with his free hand, the heat from his blush enough to warm his chilled skin. "Just let me out of this fucking bag, and I'll deal with it, and then we can pretend it _never happened_, okay?"

"All right, Fullmetal." Mustang reached over his shoulder, trying to grasp the zipper, but he couldn't quite get a hold on it. Nor could he roll over; the sleeping bag was already tight around the two of them, and every motion he made to turn caused his hip to bump against Ed's cock, causing the younger man to squawk indignantly.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Ed bent again, gasping, one hand pressing down on himself to try and stifle his body's eager response. "Shit, that's making it worse!"

"It's the same as last night," the Colonel told him, looking genuinely contrite. "I'm sorry, I just can't reach it."

"Fuck." Memory unhelpfully supplied Ed with exactly how the zipper had been drawn up the night before, and a shiver ran through him, tingling rather too pleasantly in his groin. He gave Mustang a long, hard look that promised excruciating, lingering pain if he even _thought_ about laughing. "I'll have to reach around you to get it."

Was it his imagination, or did the bastard's eyes widen at the declaration? "Fine," Mustang said, all nonchalance, but his mouth was pulled tighter than usual. "Just make it quick."

Ed snorted. "You bet I will."

Stretching an arm over the Colonel's shoulder, Ed reached for the zipper before his nerve gave out, and found his face drawn extremely close to Mustang's. The other man had shut his eyes, wearing an expression of strained blankness, and there was some comfort in that. But keeping his hips canted back throughout the process was impossible; as his body moved forward, his erection rubbed over fine skin, the protrusion of pelvic bone, and the sensation made Ed want to let his eyes roll back in his head, and just _thrust_.

"Ed, hurry up." Mustang's voice was hoarse, and with a start Ed realized that he was just... _pressed_ there, naked against the other man, and his metal hand trembled as he grabbed at the tag. A few hard yanks, but as earlier, the zipper didn't budge.

"It's stuck," Ed growled, tugging fruitlessly at it. "It won't move."

Mustang took a deep breath, as though steadying himself. "Maybe some fabric is caught in the slide. Draw it up a bit, then try pulling it down again."

This time, the zipper obligingly slid upwards along the track about a half an inch before binding again. But no matter how he tugged at it, it refused to be drawn down. Throughout it all, Ed's cock throbbed and chafed against the Colonel's stomach, sending dizzying waves of urgency spilling through his gut.

Frustrated, and increasingly desperate to escape the confines of the sleeping bag so he could find some release from the mounting pressure in his loins, Ed jerked hard on the zipper, his motions growing more frantic by the second. "Open, goddammit! Let go, let go, let _fucking_ _go_!"

A gasp by his ear made him pause; Mustang's eyes were open, staring past him in alarm, but before he could wonder if the entire fucking Drachman army had maybe shown up to laugh at their predicament, the Colonel planted a hand on his chest, pushing Ed back the scant few inches he was able. "Fullmetal, stop!"

"What do you- _fucking shit_!" Ed screeched, trying to claw his way even further backwards through the sleeping bag. "What the hell is _that_!"

Mustang eyed him testily, his normally pale features painted bright red. "What the hell do you think it is, genius?"

Ed wrestled an arm free to point at the Colonel in accusation. "You!" he shrieked. "You're a pervert! You're actually _getting_ _off_ on this, aren't you?"

"I assure you, I am not!" the other man replied hotly, the flush deepening. "But the way you kept bumping up against me... what did you _expect_ would happen?"

"I _expected_ to get the goddamn sleeping bag _open_, so I could get the hell away from you!" Ed shot back, his eyes open about as far as they could go. Something- he _refused_ to think precisely _what_- hard and warm was nudging against his belly, and despite his firm admonition to stay the hell away from it, his own cock seemed to be taking an interest. "Fuck's sake, Mustang, stop touching me!"

"You started it." Under better circumstances, Ed would have found great amusement in the sullen petulance permeating the Colonel's tone, but his body was pounding from the bizarre new stimulus, his erection straining desperately for more. A few long moments passed as they lay there in silence, unable to look at each other. Mustang was inhaling deep through his nose, letting the breath pass out of his mouth in slow, measured breaths, and if he thought he wouldn't go into hysterics Ed _would_ have laughed at him. Like breathing was going to control _that_!

Honestly, at that particular moment, Ed didn't really think _anything_ would control it. The head of his cock had happily reacquainted itself with Mustang's navel, the sensation making his skin crawl with sheer need, and without a thought for decency or propriety, Ed threw himself forward, yanking at the zipper for all he was worth and shrieking curses while Mustang writhed in alarm beneath his attack.

"Fullmetal! _Ed_! What the _hell_ are you doing? Stop, stop!"

"Let me _ouuuut_!" Ed wailed, thrashing impotently and inching the sleeping bag about on the floor of the tent. "I didn't sign up for this! This is _fucked_ _up_ and _wrong_, and _my goddamn balls hurt_!"

In a back corner of his mind, the suggestion of alchemy flickered, but it died almost immediately. He couldn't concentrate on arrays, could barely think at all, the desire to come eclipsing every other concern in his head. The Drachmans, the soldiers from Briggs, his own goddamn _brother_ could be outside the tent, and if he could break free of the imprisoning sleeping bag he'd gladly jerk off in front of them all if only it meant finding some release. He let out a guttural groan at the thought, yanking the tab even harder.

Mustang bucked as Ed's foot caught him in the shin, his cock bobbing up to brush against Ed's, and something that felt like a jolt of electricity raced up Ed's spine, lighting a bonfire at the base of his skull. _Fuck_, but that shouldn't feel so _good_!

The Colonel was panting, his expression by turns incredulous and horrified as he stared at his companion. "I'm sorry," he gasped, clearly mortified, and the uncharacteristically vulnerable look in Mustang's eyes set off a series of firebombs in Ed's brain, reducing what little remained of his control to rubble.

Temporary insanity, he decided in a feverish rush of mental calculations, was _definitely_ called for.

His hands lashed out, grasping the Colonel's hips hard enough that he was likely to leave a bruise. With a heave, Ed rolled atop him, knees locked tight around the other man's thighs as he pushed their pelvises together, _hard_. Mustang made a choking sound as their erections touched, a meeting that lit off more fireworks inside Ed's skull, and he brandished a manic, barbed wire grin at the Colonel's shock.

"We're in the middle of nowhere," he said on a ragged breath. "No one for miles." His hips twitched convulsively, cock riding up against the other man's body with delicious friction, and shivers of pleasure danced over every nerve he possessed. Mustang jerked below him, dark eyes wide, his mouth open in a perfect 'o' of surprise and his usual composure nowhere in sight. Emboldened, Ed leaned closer, giving in to the urge to shuffle his swollen penis once more against Mustang's own arousal. Excitement shot through him, and he gasped above the Colonel's ear. "If we don't tell, it's like it never even happened, right?"

Mustang only stared back up at him, hair in his eyes, a flush tinging his cheeks pink. He didn't look like himself, Ed thought distractedly; his usual, precise demeanor was blurred, just as his eyes were unfocused and soft, giving him a more natural appearance than Ed could ever recall seeing before. It rather suited him.

"What d'ya say, Mustang?" he whispered, letting his cock drag down the Colonel's belly, the sensation tingling along his skin.

In lieu of reply, the Colonel's hips rose, tentative, as though he didn't quite dare commit to the act. Or it may have been involuntary; Ed neither knew, nor cared. In his mind it was permission enough, and with a groan of relief he thrust in earnest, reveling in the sheer, hedonistic gratification of the act.

This was so beyond weird. Yeah, okay, he wanted to come so fucking badly he'd have done plenty of weird things, but this... and _Mustang_...

Maybe it was better if he just didn't think about it at all.

But god_,_ it was _good._ "Yeah. Oh, _fuck_ yeah!" Ed growled, plunging forward again and again. Beneath him, Mustang moaned deep in his throat, his own body picking up the pace that Ed was setting. Those dark, shrewd eyes had fluttered shut and his head was thrown back, exposing the pale column of his throat, and for one hallucinogenic moment Ed had the strongest desire to lean forward and _bite_ that neck possessively, leave his mark on the flawless skin.

Instead he reached lower, his hands curling around Mustang's buttocks and- oh yes, that was a _much_ more satisfying hold. The Colonel seemed to think so as well; his breath hitched, and the rough, dry friction between their cocks suddenly slicked. "Oh _fuck_, oh _fuck_," Mustang chanted desperately, and Ed couldn't remember ever hearing the man use that word before, let alone sound so frayed and helpless as he did.

Out of nowhere a hand was between them, the Colonel's palm encircling Ed's erection and tunneling it against his own. The additional pressure, the sensation of their glans rubbing against one another, sliding down to nudge the tender vein beneath the head, shafts stroking like pistons, was _intense_, and Ed rumbled his approval, words well beyond him now. Even the Colonel had ceased his muttering, his voice petering out into hoarse gasps that were increasing in volume, his fist clenching tighter...

The other man bucked hard beneath him, Ed's name dropping from the Colonel's lips in a stuttered, breathless sob as his erection swelled, then pulsed sticky wetness that slid along the underside of Ed's cock and felt absolutely _incredible_. Mustang cried out again as Ed humped even faster into his fist, along the softening length of the his cock, and his other hand slipped around to rest on Ed's back, just above the swell of his ass, guiding and pulling him tighter and damned if that didn't feel _right_ somehow.

He glanced down, seeing the Colonel's eyes, wanton beneath disheveled black bangs, lips pursed as though just released from a kiss and _fuck_, but the man looked good like that, and when the hell did Ed ever start thinking the bastard was _hot_? But all it took was the whisper of his name once more, a couple quick, hard thrusts, and Ed was coming like he'd never come in his life, shuddering, sweat prickling all over his skin as he howled his release to the world.

Touching Mustang didn't seem like such a bad thing now, Ed thought, not since they'd just done... that, and his bones had all gone to water anyway. He slumped onto the body below him, not caring about the mess he was lying in, and panted against the Colonel's chest as his heart thumped and leaped against his ribs. Mustang's hands were still on his back, and Ed wasn't really bothered by that, either. His cock throbbed once, happily, and he reflected with weary contentment that it would actually take a hell of a lot right now for _anything_ to bother him. After the best orgasm of his life...

Wait, did he really just think that?

Well... shit.

Funny thing was, that didn't really bother him either.

Mustang shifted beneath him, and Ed suddenly realized that the other man was probably pretty uncomfortable, sandwiched between the hard ground and a boneless alchemist. With a groan, he slid off and to the side, still pressed up against Mustang's shoulder, but at least now the Colonel should be able to breathe.

It occurred to him that right about now, things ought to feel really awkward. After all, this was _Mustang_, and Mustang excelled at making him feel off-balance at the best of times, which this- legs still entwined, semen mingled and crusting on his stomach- clearly was _not_. He should be feeling mortified, furious and defensive, but all that he could really muster at the moment was sleepy lassitude. And it wasn't like it had been a _bad_ experience, just a little strange. Even if it _had_ been with Mustang...

Ed sneaked a furtive glance at his companion. For once without anything witty to say, the Colonel lay staring up at the ceiling of the tent, a dazed, contemplative cast to his features. Ed had a strong suspicion that the man was building up his walls again, repairing the mask that had been thoroughly shattered a few minutes ago, and the notion unexpectedly rankled. There had been something rather appealing about seeing Roy Mustang without anything to hide behind.

He poked the Colonel in the arm. "Hey, you okay?"

"Hmm? What- yes, I'm fine." Mustang blinked rapidly a couple of times, his facade reasserting itself. Trying to be the same old superior, collected Colonel Bastard. Yeah. Ed wasn't about to let that happen. Mustang, off-balance, was a lot more interesting than his stiff Colonel image.

"Well," Ed drawled, "that sure was..." He paused, searching for the right descriptive, and almost missed the Colonel muttering, "Mindblowing," beneath his breath.

Ed didn't have a lot of experience for comparison, but that seemed like a pretty accurate assessment. "Yeah," he agreed, ignoring the startled look the Colonel shot him. "Mindblowing sounds about right."

Ah, now _there_ was that uncomfortable silence. Mustang turned his gaze back to the ceiling, clearly unsettled, and Ed bit his tongue to keep from snickering, Okay, so sure- if someone had told him the day before that he'd be perfectly at ease with the Colonel after blowing his load all over the man's stomach, he'd probably have told them in no uncertain terms that they were insane, right after smashing their teeth out with an automail fist. But it was all right. For himself, at least; he wasn't really sure what the Colonel was thinking at the moment. Hopefully something good- it _had_ been _mindblowing_, after all.

"So," Mustang said without preamble. "This is our secret then?"

Ed frowned. _What the hell? _"Yeah," he answered, dragging the word out and trying not to feel vaguely disappointed. "S'not like I've got anyone I'm dying to tell."

"Right." Just like that, he was Colonel Bastard all over again, and Ed's knuckles itched. "Well, we should get moving then. We've already wasted much of the morning, and breaking camp will take some time. There's still a good trek ahead of us if we're going to reach the outpost before evening and..."

"Hold it," Ed snapped, propping himself on one elbow to glare into Mustang's pale face. "Hold it just one fucking minute. You don't say that was 'mindblowing', and then brush it off like nothing ever happened!"

"What am I supposed to say, Fullmetal?" Mustang stared back at him, expression cool and just inches from outright disdainful. "Were you looking for praise?"

"You enjoyed it," Ed told him accusingly. "Don't even pretend that you didn't."

Mustang paled even further. "It's not difficult to make a man climax, with the proper stimulation," he replied in a lofty voice. "Don't make more out of it than is actually there."

Had he not been looking the other man in the eyes, Ed would have missed the flicker of heat that passed through their black depths. _He's lying_, he thought in a sudden burst of inspiration. He'd actually gotten to the smug bastard.

He wanted to laugh, but instead he clapped his hands, transmuting the sleeping bag to shreds around them. Mustang cursed and leaped to his feet, hands chafing against his chilled flesh. "What was that for?" he yelled furiously at Ed.

Ed shrugged, climbing to his feet at a much more leisurely pace in spite of the dreadful cold. "You were in a hurry," he replied in an offhand manner, reaching for his clothing. Another clap, and they were steaming as the water frozen in the fabric boiled away, and he repeated the process on Mustang's before he began pulling on his pants. The Colonel ignored him as they dressed in silence, nor did he speak as they pulled down the tent and repacked it. Dried rations were distributed in similar fashion, and in short order they were on their way, hiking back down the mountainside toward the marked trail.

There was no good reason for Ed to keep thinking about what happened, but the memories wouldn't leave his mind. And from the rigid set of Mustang's shoulders ahead, it seemed that his thoughts were running in a similar vein. Ed slogged through the snow, while images of the other man sprawled beneath him, head tossed back and eyelids fluttering, vulnerable and needy, burned through his imagination like wildfire, unquenchable. _Fuck_.

There was no way he could let this go.

"I think you're scared," he said, breaking the silence that had surrounded them.

The Colonel cast a weary gaze over his shoulder. "Of what?" he asked, before turning back to the trail.

"Of liking it. What we did."

Mustang stopped, standing motionless in the trail for a moment before turning around once more to face him. "What do you want, Ed?" he said, voice heavy. "Yes, I liked it. It felt good. It was also unquestionably the strangest, most inappropriate thing I've ever done with another man. I'm inclined to chalk it up to extenuating circumstances and madness, but I can't for the life of me understand why you want to keep talking about it. You seemed horrified by the very idea of touching me earlier."

"You're blowing it off," Ed told him, stomping up the trail until he was even with the other man. "I won't be dismissed like that."

"I was under the impression that you wanted to forget it ever happened."

"Yeah, well..." Ed waved a hand, brushing the comment aside. "That was before I knew how it felt."

Dark eyes studied him sharply. "I'd never have guessed you for a hedonist, Fullmetal."

He shrugged easily. "Yeah, me neither. But, you know, things change. It wasn't bad."

An eyebrow cocked at him sardonically. "Mindblowing?"

"Your words," Ed reminded him, moving closer. "So- you still gonna pretend it was nothing?"

Mustang sighed, rolling his eyes and taking a step backwards. "It was a momentary lapse of reason, Fullmetal. And I still can't believe you're making such a big deal over it."

Ed snorted, and invaded the Colonel's personal space once more. "I told you, I'm not going to let you dismiss me so easily. Yeah, it was weird, but it was also pretty fucking amazing. What's more, I think you're interested."

The Colonel shook his head, still retreating from Ed's advance. "That's ridiculous," he scoffed, a slight edge to his voice. He kept backing away, while Ed matched him step for step. "Don't get a swelled head."

"_Your_ head was pretty swelled," Ed leered, leaning in as Mustang's back struck a tree, trapping him. "Right...down... _here_." His hand shot forward, cupping the Colonel's groin in his palm. Sure enough, there was a firm line of flesh there, and he grinned as he applied a little more pressure, eliciting a strangled groan from the other man.

"When we get to the outpost," he told the Colonel, keeping his hand firmly in place, "you'll get us one room for the night. Just one; we can share. And then we'll see who's ridiculous."

"Fullmetal..." Mustang gasped, face turning red, but Ed silenced him with a look.

"One room," he repeated, and gave the Colonel's awakening erection one final squeeze before releasing him. He stepped back, giving Mustang room to escape, but the other man remained where he was, leaning against the tree and breathing heavily, his lips and cheeks flushed. For a moment Ed thought that maybe he'd overstepped, that Mustang was going to flip out and try to hit him or something. But when the Colonel finally met his gaze the heat was back, smoldering in the depths of his unfathomable eyes.

"One room then," Mustang agreed, and pushed himself away from the tree. The mask was firmly back in place, but Ed didn't care, because he could see through it now. Mustang was trying to keep his dignity intact, and that was fine, because Ed had won and they both knew it. "For your sake, you'd better impress me."

He had no idea what the hell he was going to do, but Ed never backed down from a challenge. Besides, he had the rest of the hike to sort it all out. "You bet I will," he retorted, and Mustang smirked back, eyes gleaming with what Ed felt certain was anticipation. Whatever he worked out, it was for _damn_ sure going to involve Mustang on his back, as raw and exposed as he'd had him earlier. The mere thought made his own cock twitch.

The Colonel straightened his coat, and then hitched his pack a little further up on his shoulders as he took to the trail once more. Ed hiked along behind him, trying hard not to snigger as the Colonel surreptitiously adjusted the bulge in his pants while they walked. Stuffy bastard. Yeah, tonight was _definitely_ gonna be interesting.

Ed grinned again, and picked up the pace.


End file.
